


And I'll Help You Take A Breath

by agib



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Collars, Don't Worry The OC Is Just The Bad Guy, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Strangulation, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agib/pseuds/agib
Summary: Tony and Peter's food is drugged one afternoon after Peter wins a bet and Tony has to get him lunch. They wake up in a room and, as usual, Tony's snarky comments gets them nowhere, and winds up with Peter leaned against Tony, struggling to breathe as his mentor attempts to save him.





	1. Collar

**Author's Note:**

> This fic idea has been drifting around my head for awhile and I had to get it out, so here you go and I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Leave comments (they make me blush every time I swear to god) and message me on tumblr (literally say anything, leave asks, questions, prompts, feedback, I will love you regardless.)
> 
> My tumblr is Agib-2002 so if you want to leave asks or randomly message me literally anything, do that, because I will love you forever. (But it's not like I don't love all of you who even bother clicking on my fics)
> 
> <3

Peter woke up with a groan, he hated how quickly his enhanced metabolism burnt through drugs sometimes. If he counted, this would have probably been about the third time he had ended up waking up too soon. But this time he was more irked that he would have to sit quietly and wait for his mentor to wake up.

The teen reached over to gingerly sit Tony up, checking for any head wounds before propping him against the wall of the room they were shut in. He unzipped his hoodie and folded it up, stuffing it between his neck and the wall, hoping that when the mechanic woke he wouldn’t be too stiff to help get them out of wherever they were.

Peter sighed and looked around, noting the brick walls and concrete floors, high ceiling and heavily locked doors. He leaned back next to Tony and double checked the man’s pulse, letting his shoulders sag with the comforting weight of assurance when he felt the steady thrumming of his pulse. Drumming his hands lightly on his legs and tapping his foot absently to a beat that didn’t exist outside of his head, he let the wall take his weight as he waited patiently for Tony to rouse.

It could have been anywhere between twenty minutes to another hour, Peter wasn’t particularly good with keeping track of time when he was bored, but when a pained groan came from his side, he did perk up. He hear the heartbeat pickup into a more alert pattern to the soft thumps.

“God, I need to stop drinking…” Tony complained as he opened his eyes and blinked groggily, reaching up to rub his temples as Peter’s hoodie slipped from behind his neck.

“You didn’t,” Peter interjected, smiling sheepishly and waving slightly when Tony snapped to face him, his face implying he had forgotten what had happened before he woke up in a drafty room. “We went to lunch, remember the bet we made, you said I couldn’t finish that book on nanotech before you?” Peter laughed airily, “I finished, and you were still on page eight, so you owed me food.” His face pinched slightly, and Tony watched as he worried at his lower lip, “I didn’t uh… didn’t expect you to actually take me to a _restaurant_. I just sort of figured you’d grab a sandwich on our way to the lab.”

“The point of this is…?” Peter sucked in a breath and looked down at the hoodie, which was now laid across his lap. Tony mentally berated himself for being so blunt, he was just tired of waking up in rooms with locked doors, especially when his teenage protégé was sat next to him, probably waiting for him to get them out of whatever situation they were tangled up in this time. “Sorry kid, not your fault,” he apologised lightly as he did a sweep of the room, listening with one ear as Peter began to speak again.

 

“Yeah, um, but you got us a table at a proper diner and it was pretty nice.” Tony held back an amused snort, of course it was _nice_ , he had gotten F.R.I.D.A.Y to find the place with the best rating near Forest Hills and then made a booking for a time that it would definitely be quiet, on account of how much of an issue the media had been as of late. “But remember I told you I felt weird? Around the same time our food came?” Peter scooted over to give Tony more room as he resigned to slouch against the wall again. “I don’t think I explain well enough, my senses went off but there wasn’t anything wrong, then we were eating… and after that it all goes blank?”

 

“Yep, same here. Probably drugged our food, I wasn’t exactly subtle about making that booking. I should’ve used a fake name, sorry kid.” Peter shook his head, waving off Tony’s apology and matching it with one of his own.

 

“No, it’s my fault, I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you when my senses went off.” The silence after he spoke lingered for a moment before Peter looked up, his eyes trained on the door as he picked up noise from behind it.

 

The handle pushed down, and the door swung inward. A man stepped in, looking aggravated at the sight of the two sat against the wall. Tony burst into sarcastic chatter almost immediately, and Peter winced when he saw how much darker the man’s expression grew.

 

“So, what’s the motive here, ransom money? You want me to build you a weapon? Maybe you want my suit blue prints or –”

 

“No, I don’t care about any of that.” The man interrupted bitterly, “I want you to understand why you’re _not_ a hero.” Peter opened his mouth to defend his mentor but Tony flicks him a look that was a clear warning, _don’t draw attention to yourself_. “You brought a Chitauri down and it crushed my son with the building it collapsed. He was trapped under the rubble, I had to hold his hand while he suffocated because a piece of rebar had pierced his lung.”

 

Tony notices as Peter’s defensive expression melted away, he looked upset, empathetic even. He defended himself, not wanting to let his kidnapper seize the upper hand through Peter’s somewhat weakness for the people that heroes like him couldn’t save.

 

“It’s always about New York, isn’t it? What else was I supposed to do? They were going to destroy the whole city,” he snapped, remembering the state of the rubble and all the casualties announced on the news in the weeks that surrounded the attack.

 

“Do you know what it’s like to hold you kid and watch him asphyxiate because you can’t do anything to help?! Do you?” Tony gritted his teeth and felt a pang when he saw the way Peter was looking at the ground, almost guiltily, as if he felt responsible for the invasion despite the fact that he wasn’t even Spider-Man back then. “I just want you to understand what I had to go through!” The man continued, ignoring the way Peter had stopped glaring back at him. “What my son had to go through, while you got to destroy the city and walk away like _you_ were the hero!”

 

“I flew a nuke into a wormhole and saved everyone’s life! Your kid would have died regardless!” Tony knows he’s said something wrong now, because the man’s eyes deepen, and he swivels around, leaving the room briefly before storming back in after only a few seconds. There’s something in his hand but Tony doesn’t have the chance to work out what it is before the man is roughly shoving him backward and lunging at Peter.

 

Unluckily, the man took Peter by surprise, seeing as his senses weren’t much help. They had been going off since he woke up, and the movement was only additional danger piled atop already existing danger.

 

Peter is pinned against the wall with a grunt, and before he can even begin to struggle, the man had managed to clasp a black collar around his throat. A mechanical lock clicked into place with a pop and Tony shot up from where he had pushed aside, shoving the man backwards and away from the teen. “What are you doing? Get that off him!”

 

The collar wasn’t tight, but Peter yanks at it and pulls an uncomfortable face, as if it were merely an itchy sweater and not a menacing contraption of thick metal which was wrapped around his throat.

 

“I want you to endure exactly what I did.” The man said harshly, backing up from where Tony was trying to help Peter tug the thing off himself. “Do you know it took almost two hours for his heart to stop? The rebar kept the blood in place for long enough that he didn’t even die from blood loss, it was his lungs not pulling in enough air. Two. Hours. I held his hand for _two hours_ while he died.”

 

The man pulls something out of his pocket and Tony watches as he fiddled with a dial and then pressed a small button. “I want you to experience exactly that,” he muttered in a lower voice, a threatening look in his eyes.

 

From beside him, Peter let’s out a horrible choked-off gasp and then fell forward onto his knees. His hands scrabbled up to the collar and Tony can see where the metal was now digging into his skin, tighter than what could possibly be safe.

 

“Stop it! _Stop_! He’s a kid, he isn’t involved in any of this, you’re hurting him – he can’t breathe!” The man doesn’t seem to care at all, he just watches for a moment before walking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Tony stares after him for only a moment more before jumping into action and grabbing Peter’s arm to pull him closer. “Peter? Peter! Let me help – let me help you!” 

 

Peter’s arms are wild, the boy’s nails catch Tony’s arm and he jerks back in shock as he sees how much Peter is struggling to suck in a breath. He surges forward without hesitation, not caring when Peter’s hands grab at his shirt and start slapping his chest in a panic, as if to get his attention. Their eyes meet, and Peter’s are wide with fear. It’s clear that he was going to have a panic attack if Tony couldn’t find him a better position to breathe in. It takes them time to reposition but once they have, Peter is tucked fully in Tony’s lap, his back is pressed against the man’s knees and his head is tucked over his shoulder and tilted. His airway is still being squeezed dangerously, but he can manage small, whistling breaths every few seconds, as long as he keeps his head at the angle Tony had positioned it to be in.

 

Tony hates hearing the wheezy breaths Peter was taking, but he starts to focus more on the collar, hoping to find a way to remove it or, at the least, loosen it so breathing was easier for the teen. He experimentally examines parts of the locking mechanism, but when he pulled anything too hard and it cut off the weak grip Peter had on air, the boy let’s him know by squeezing his arm so hard he leaves nail imprints.

 

Tony’s only been focused on the collar for about ten minutes when he figures it out, the locking mechanism seemed to be complex because it was connected to the man’s remote, and that means Tony can hack it, as long as he figured out how to manipulate the wires within the locking mechanism. He had taken off the covering and only just began to reach for the wires when the man’s voice crackles over an intercom that the two both missed in their sweep of the room.

 

“Get away from the collar.” Tony pointedly ignored the warning, knowing that he only had a short amount of time before he would be able to figure the device out.

 

“Peter it’s okay, I got it – I got it – I just have to hack the remote and then –”

 

The door slammed open with enough force to leave a dent in the brick wall behind it. Tony immediately shoved himself in front of Peter’s body as he looked up to catch sight of the vengeful look on the man’s face.

 

But Tony knows that the man doesn’t even need to lay a finger on Peter if he wants to hurt him – he just twists the dial and presses the same button on the remote and suddenly, Peter choked on a gargled scream before there was absolute silence.

 

Tony whips around and almost jumps back in fright as he sees how Peter was now completely collapsed on the floor. The boy’s smaller body was bucking wildly, and his eyes were bulging as the collar level changed. It had now clicked to such a small width that Tony could visibly see where the metal was compressing his neck and possibly crushing his airway beyond repair.

 

“ _No_! Okay, okay – I’m backing away – I swear, I swear I’m backing away!” Tony raised his hands in the air and skittered backward, away from Peter and the collar like the man wanted. 

 

Peter’s face was a horrible shade of purple now, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Tears streamed down his face and his lips were parted in a silent scream as the collar squeezed all the possible pathways for air to get to his lungs and cut them off completely. 

 

Tony’s hands shook from where they were raised in the air, he didn’t know when his eyes had filled with un-spilled tears, but he was confident that watching Peter suffocate to death was the most traumatic thing he had ever seen in his life.

 

The man jammed a finger into a hook in the collar and used it to haul Peter to his knees again. 

 

“If you so much as _think_ about hacking this remote, I swear to god I will turn the size of the collar down so tight, it’ll crush every bone in his neck in under a second. _Got it_?”

 

“ _Yes_! Please, please, please god loosen it, I won’t touch the collar,” the man huffed, apparently satisfied, and turned back out the door, twisting the dial back to its previous setting as he did so.

 

Tony watched the collar size snap back to just smaller than Peter’s neck. The boy tried to gasp and heave air, but once again, all he got were a few panicked, wheezy breaths that Tony had to listen to from across the room.

 

\----

 

Tony sat across from Peter in agony, watching him clutch at his diaphragm and take in short, choked pulls of barely enough air, for what must have been at least an hour.

 

He was growing more and more frightened for every single breath that peter barely took. But it was only when he pulled his eyes up from the collar to Peter’s face for the hundredth time when he noticed how blue tinted his lips had had turned, how sheet-white and ashy his cheeks and neck were, how much his hands trembled.

 

There was no question about it, Peter was asphyxiating, _slowly_ , and there wasn’t anything Tony could do without risking the possibility of aggravating the man more, to the point where the collar snapped to a size so narrow that it completely obliterated the delicate breathing tubes and windpipes inside Peter’s neck.

 

“ _Hhhhhaaggh_ ,” Peter wheezed hard, and his eyelashes fluttered with the effort to pull in air for another time. “Mhiiist’r...” Peter’s lips strained, and Tony could hear the way his little puffs were beginning to faulter now. “Mhii – hiiist’r str’k...”

 

One of Peter’s hands dropped to the floor from his chest and it made a soft slapping noise as he exerted the weight to hold himself up. His entire arm trembled violently, and his eyes were still closed, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated hard on breathing. “Hst’r st’rk h – h – h’lp ‘e.”

 

_Oh god_ , Tony thought, Peter was using the limited air he _needed_ , to choke out words.

 

_Mister Stark, help me._

 

Tony might have thrown up. The shade of Peter’s cracked, drying lips, the way his free hand slowly unfurled from his chest and weakly reached out for him, his fingers making a feeble but understandable gesture that made Tony’s heart feel like it was being squeezed by a collar of its own.

 

Peter’s fingers outstretched again, before curling back into themselves.

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

And again. 

 

That unmistakable gesture that held so much desperation and meaning.

 

_Hold me. Save me. Help me._

 

Tony sobbed, he sucked in a stuttering breath and then immediately felt sick when he realised how the noise of air being pulled into his lungs must have sounded to Peter. 

 

“Please, please, l – let me hold him...” He begged, but the intercom stayed silent. “Please, god _pleasepleaseplease_... he’s dying, he – he’s suffocating.”

 

A tear rolled down Tony’s cheek and he saw Peter’s chest spasming as it failed to pull air in once again. “You said you got to hold your son...” His tactic could either strike a nerve, or it could work, Tony didn’t know. “You told me you got to – to hold his hand.” A teardrop landed on the floor and made a quiet splashing noise. “P – please just – just let me hold him too, he’s a kid, he – he’s only fifteen, please, he needs me.”

 

Tony turned his head to look back at Peter, whose shaking arm finally gave way. The teens cheek hit the floor and Tony thought the boy may have tried to sob or whimper, but the noise was so gargled and wheezy that he couldn’t be sure of anything.

 

“S – s – sir... p – pl’s.” 

 

_Sir please._

 

Peter couldn’t even say his name anymore. He was resorting to the shortest epithets he had for Tony. 

 

He couldn’t tell if Peter was trying to sob, but from the look on his blueing face, it was plausible

 

“Please, please let me hold him, please, th – think about how much worse it would have been if you hadn’t been there to hold your kid... please, let me – let me hold mine.”

 

There was nothing but the splashing of Tony’s tears and the strangulated, gagging noises that were being squeezed out of Peter’s throat. But then, like a ray of hope, the intercom crackled. 

 

“ _Fine_.”

 

That was all Tony needed before he threw himself across the room, spilling tears as he did, and hit the ground beside Peter. 

 

“I’m here, I’m here Pete, I’m here kiddo.” His hands hovered for the briefest of moments before he gently manoeuvred the boy into his lap, tilting his head until his airway was as unobstructed as possible. “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ , I’m so, so sorry Peter.” He kept the teen’s head lifted at the right angle with a hand under his chin.

 

With his hand supporting the boy’s chin, he finally gave in and dropped his own head forward until his cheek was pressed against Peter’s temple and his nose was being tickled by soft curls. “Please, please just let him go, leave him out of it, he isn’t involved in anything, he’s innocent, you’re killing him.”

 

“So was my son, and you got him killed too.”

 

Peter made another choked sound from underneath him and Tony whispered softly, running a gentle finger over his jawline.

 

“You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay, I’ve got you, I’m here and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m here now...”

 

Tony couldn’t lose Peter. He was everything. He was the only thing Tony needed. He despised that they were caught in this situation, backed up against a wall, but he would rather take the risk to save Peter’s life, than do nothing and hold him as his last breath was stolen by a cruel metal collar. Tony let his spare hand rub up and down Peter’s shoulders as cover, he ran it up to his shoulder and back to his wrist, up to his collarbone, down to his wrist, up to his shoulder and around to his back. The genius made sure his elbow was visible, showing off the smooth, obvious circles he was rubbing into Peter’s back.

 

And then he spiralled upward, higher.

 

Higher. 

 

Higher. 

 

His finger brushed the locking mechanism, but he continued to move his elbow in wide arcs as if his hand were still circling Peter’s back. “Stay really still for me, okay kiddo?” He kept his voice so low that he couldn’t even hear it, but with the boy’s enhanced senses, Peter would.

 

Tony snuck two fingers into the mass of multi coloured wires, he only needed minimum of around thirty seconds and then it would be done.

 

He twisted a green wire and a blue one out of their respective alignments, before switching the placings and peeling a red one back to make way for another blue. He wasn’t conscious of the fact that he was holding his own breath in anticipation and complete concentration. 

 

A green wire snuck into the right place and he pressed further in to the dead centre of the mass of wires until he could manipulate them like a coding program. “M’ gonna unlock it but then I need to get it off before he realises I’ve hacked the remote, or – or...” Tony trailed off, he didn’t want to say the words ‘ _because otherwise he’ll crush your neck and there’s no undoing that._ ’

 

“Ready?” He whispered, his fingers dancing over the right wires. 

 

“ _Hhhnnng,_ ” Peter managed, and that was as close to an affirmation that the boy could muster.

 

“One, two...” Tony murmured softly, counting down until he could finish the job that was literally balancing Peter’s life in the midst of it all.

 

He yanked the right wire and there was a brief pause in which nothing happened, and Tony’s heart began to dissolve into shattered hope, but then there was a click which felt louder than it really was in the baited silence hanging thickly in the room.

 

The entire locking mechanism detached from the collar itself and Tony wasted no time as he tore apart the latch and hurled it across the room, so it landed somewhere they couldn’t see.

 

Peter’s eyes opened as the metal fell away from his skin, his lips parted, and his chest expanded more than what seemed possible as he took the biggest lungful of oxygen that anyone ever had. 

 

Tony shuffled them both back with his feet as the door was blown open once again, the man holding the remote stepped into the room and twisted the dial, from somewhere behind him the collar snapped onto the smallest possible size with the same finality as a bear trap.

 

He didn’t have the courage to turn around and look at how small it was, but Peter was facing that way regardless, and the sight of it made him want to throw up and run as far from that collar as possible.

 

Tony slipped Peter off his lap and leant him against the wall before turning to face the man. He stood, fists clenched at his side, a brutal fire burning deep in his now dark brown eyes, which were locked directly onto the man whose confidence was rapidly fading away as he watched Tony rise from the floor.

 

He took one look into the hero’s eyes and bolted.

 

Tony didn’t care to go after him, that’s what his suit was for.


	2. Breathe With Me - I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluff portion of hurt/comfort...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else who has any ideas or questions - please just go ahead and ask me! You can message me on Tumblr, (Agib-2002) you can leave an anon ask if you're shy, <3 or just leave them in the comments on one of my fics!
> 
> I love all of you who click on my fics and I'd love to make any of you happy by answering questions or giving head canons for ideas you have! Writing them makes me feel so fulfilled too :)
> 
> I can't even begin to explain the bubbly feeling I get when someone leaves an ask, It's like my dream coming true, just being able to make people happy with something I enjoy. (Blargh that was cheesy, Tony would've thrown up.)
> 
> <3 Leave a comment, I hope you enjoy!

Tony watched the man skitter out of the room, his dark eyes glaring holes through the brick as he listened to the receding footsteps which pounded away from them. Once he was certain the man was gone, and he heard the faint clanging of a door which must have been the entrance to whatever building they were in, Tony dropped back to his knees and curled out a hand to brace against the wall as his spare arm wrapped around Peter’s waist to help him up.

 

“You’re okay,” he assured, looping Peter’s arm over his shoulder to take his weight. The boy stood on shaking legs, his hand which wasn’t draped over Tony’s shoulder reached out to grip his sleeve.

 

“H’rd t’ breathe,” Peter whined, his fingers tightening. “H’rts…” he whimpered quietly. Tony took a step forward, pulling Peter and sighing worriedly as the teen’s feet dragged across the floor.

 

“Okay buddy, I’m just gonna carry you,” he warned. Tony slowed, so he could scoop an arm underneath Peter’s knees and pull him into his chest. “You okay?” He asked softly, beginning to move forward towards the open doorway again.

 

“ _Mhm_ ,” Peter slurred.

 

“Alright, then we’re just getting out of here.” He nudged the door with his shoulder until it was fully opened and gave a quick check to see whether the hall was clear or not – it was. “How’s your breathing, kiddo? You doing okay?” He asked as he stepped around the corner. 

 

There was a longer hall lined with doors which were all open, and they seemed to lead to interrogation rooms and a few storage closets. “I think we’re in the old station, which explains the holding cell vibe,” Tony pointed out. He could hear the vibration of Peter humming in response.

 

_At least the kid is conscious and aware enough to respond,_ Tony reminded himself. He couldn’t hear anything, so he assumed the building was either abandoned or empty aside from himself and the drowsy teen in his arms.

 

“S’ quiet,” Peter mumbled, sensing his mentor’s hesitance. “Just us.” Tony nodded thankfully, moving further down the hall and focusing on the dim, early evening light that crept around through the small slits beside the door the man had assumingly fled from.

 

“Jesus,” Tony breathed out, “how long have we been here?” The light filtering through the end of the hallway was dark, tinged slightly pink from the skyline which hung with smears of orange and red. “Your aunt is probably worried,” he pointed out, shifting Peter further into his chest. “I’ll call her from the Med Bay,” he promised, finally elbowing past the door and walking out into what looked like a back alley.

 

Tony took a deep breath, double checking on Peter and readjusting the angle his neck was bent forward at. “Okay kid, let’s get you back to the tower.” The alley was clear, and the early evening air was crisp and stung Tony’s eyes as he trudged back to the main road. “Alright, screw it – that asshole still has my phone and tracker, so looks like we’re catching a cab.”

 

Peter groaned, his arms curled further around Tony’s neck and he began fidgeting his legs until they touched the pavement. Whatever neighbourhood they were in, it was quiet. “I’m hailing a cab right now, bud. Everything’s gonna be fine. Look alive,” Tony grunted, lifting Peter’s arm back over his neck and shifting him, making sure he was stood upright and looking less like an injured super teen.

 

“Kay…” Peter mumbled, lifting his chin and croaking wearily as he panted. Tony frowned slightly at the effort Peter was putting into pulling in air. “M’ good,” the boy assured, watching the cab pulling up to the curb beside them.

 

“Yeah, you’re good,” Tony repeated disbelievingly, helping Peter into the backseat and immediately clipping him in and tilting his head back to clear his airway. “Midtown Manhattan, Avengers tower,” Tony instructed, squeezing Peter’s shoulder as the cab driver nodded once and pulled out onto the road.

 

“You two alright?” The man asked, eyeing the rapidly darkening ring around Peter’s neck.

 

“Yeah,” the teen whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. Tony smirked and turned to face the driver.

 

“We’re okay, thanks for the concern.” He looked back down at Peter as he rested his body further against his side, tucking his chin over the mechanic’s shoulder and wincing slightly as the cab drove over a pothole.

 

The drive was long and quiet, Tony spent majority of it pushing Peter’s hair back from his face and making sure he was getting enough air. Tony recognised where they were about fifteen minutes before they pulled up at the tower.

 

Happy and Rhodey were standing on the pavement outside the doors to the ground floor, Happy looked worried and Rhodey seemed to be unimpressed that Tony had gotten himself kidnapped, _again_.

 

Peter slipped out of the cab less than gratefully before accepting the steadying arm Tony offered. “Let’s get you inside,” Tony pressed. “Pay the man,” Tony said comically, waving his arm in the direction of the expectant cab driver.

 

“Hap, you mind?” Rhodey said, stepping forward to check his friend and the teen leaned against his side. “I’ll take them to the Med Bay,” he said nervously, looking down to see the angry band of irritation around Peter’s neck. “What the hell happened?”

 

“We went out for food, it was drugged, we woke up in a cell and this guy who was still up on a high horse about New York tried to asphyxiate the poor kid.” Tony reached over with the hand that wasn’t already supporting Peter and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

 

Rhodey’s eyes widened and he hurriedly ushered both Tony and Peter inside, immediately shuffling them into the elevator and watching worriedly as they moved to the right floor. “Alright, let’s hustle,” Tony encouraged, guiding Peter through to the right wing.

 

“I’ll be okay,” Peter tried to convince his worried mentor. “Jus’ a scratch,” he said, smiling knowingly as Tony turned to look down at him with an unimpressed look on his face.

 

“Sure, a _scratch_. You’re such a good liar,” he said facetiously. “Helen! Hey, could you have a uh…” Tony waved his arm in Peter’s general direction, specifically his bruised neck, “have a look at this, please?”

 

Helen turned from where she seemed to be reading over a medical report. She took a look at Peter’s throat, and immediately guided him to a room where she began prepping equipment.

 

“Alright, Peter, I’m about to give you some anaesthetic. You’ll wake up in an hour or so.” As Peter nodded tiredly, Helen lowered a mask over Peter’s mouth and nose, coaching his breathing until his lashes fluttered and laid against his cheeks in sleep.

 

Cho looked up to where Tony was still holding Peter’s hand. “He’ll be alright, you should go get cleaned up, and make sure Colonel Rhodes knows you’re okay.” Tony could see Rhodey looking in through the viewing window, surveying him closely, trying to gauge if he was distressed in any way.

 

“Yeah, that uh… that’s a good idea. I’ll come back, to make sure he’s not alone when he wakes up.” Tony gave Peter’s limp hand a final, comforting squeeze before walking out to meet Rhodey.

 

\----

 

Rhodey was easy enough to calm down, all Tony had to do was give him the spiel, vengeful parent whose child died during the Chuitari seeking revenge on the closest thing Tony had to a son. As soon as he managed to convince Rhodey that he was uninjured, just tired out from the adrenaline rush of the whole situation, he was able to slip back into the operation room where Cho and a few other doctors were treating Peter’s neck and monitoring his vitals.

 

“Is he okay?” He asked wearily, shifting so that he could clutch the teen’s hand while staying out of the way.

 

“He’s fine, his windpipe wasn’t permanently damaged, it’s just bruised. He’ll have trouble speaking clearly for the next few days, but he’ll probably heal up quicker than average.” Cho stepped back, rubbing her forehead and nodding to the rest of the medical team. 

 

She smiled kindly at Tony and gestured for him to take a seat beside Peter’s bed. “The anaesthetics will wear of in about fifteen minutes, he really metabolises fast.”

 

“Yeah, you should see how many bags of popcorn he goes through on movie nights.” Tony joked lightly, shifting his chair forward and taking one of Peter’s hands with both of his, rubbing small circles over the back of his wrist. “Not like they make a dent in my bank account, huh buddy?”

 

Unsurprisingly, Peter didn’t respond. The only noise was the door slipping shut and Peter’s even intakes of breath, slightly whistling on each exhale.

 

It took him exactly seventeen minutes to show signs of waking up. Tony watched his eyes darting back and forth beneath his eyelids, and he gave a small, encouraging squeeze of his hands.

 

“ _Mmng_ …”

 

“Morning to you too buddy,” Tony sighed, relieved that the teenage hero had finally decided to grace him with consciousness. “Well, evening. It’s eleven at night.” Peter blinked wearily, hazel-brown eyes dilating to adjust to the soft light in the Med Bay.

 

“What’d you t’ll May?” Peter croaked, tilting his head to look at Tony properly, his cheek grazing the pillow beneath his head.

 

“I told her you’re staying the night because you wanted to finish a breakthrough on nanotechnology.” Tony replied easily, dropping the boy’s hand to allow him to rub his eye blankly.

 

“M’kay… thank you, M’st’r St’rk.” The mechanic rolled his eyes without any real heat.

 

“How many times have I told you to just call me Tony?” He sighed, reaching over to wipe away a smear of dirt from the cell off Peter’s cheek. “You’re too polite, makes me feel old,” he teased, watching Peter roll his head further around on the pillow and smiling hazily. “You want some water?”

 

“S’re,” Peter mumbled, his eyes following as Tony moved around the room to fill a cup. “H’w long was I out f’r?”

 

“Not too long, maybe an hour or so,” Tony put the cup in Peter’s hands, holding it a few seconds longer to make sure the teen’s shaky grip would hold strong. “Cho said your voice will come back in a few days, unless you heal quicker than that.”

 

“M’kay, th’s good,” he slurred, taking a slow, stretched out drink from the paper cup. “Are you… ‘r you staying here?” Tony tilted his head, trying to gauge the question. The confusion was evident on his face, and Peter elaborated shyly. “W – with me, I mean. Are you… gonna stay in here w’th me?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony answered, his face softening, “course I will, kid.” He took the empty cup and set it down out of the way, smiling at Peter as he sat back up. “Do you need anything?” He relaxed further into his seat as Peter shook his head, moving a finger along his neck and swallowing once to test out the level of discomfort.

 

“Do you blame yourself, f – for New York?” He asked, not noticing as Tony tensed slightly in his chair.

 

“Sometimes,” the mechanic admitted. “But I don’t really have the time, you know about the wormhole, and you’ve had your fair share of nightmares like me.” Peter nodded slowly, his eyes crinkling in empathetic sympathy.

 

“I still get scared, especially at night after bad dreams… or memories, I guess. But I don’t think New York was your fault. Everyone would have died if it weren’t for you.” Peter leaned closer to the side of his bed, reaching a hand out and relaxing as Tony took it gratefully.

 

“Thanks, you’re a good kid.” Peter flushed slightly, looking at the lumps under the covers that his knees were making. “And I owe you another meal, one that’s _not_ drugged this time.”

 

“S’ okay. We should just order pizza, or Thai.” Tony laughed quietly, recognising the excitement in Peter’s eyes.

 

“Sure,” he promised, reaching out and pushing a curl back from Peter’s eye. He felt the boy leaning into the gentle touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he nudged his head forward. Tony took the unspoken memo and tangled the rest of his fingers into the mess of curls, swirling them around and relishing in the pleased noises Peter unintentionally let slip.

 

He thought that he knew what fear was, when he flew into that wormhole during the battle of New York. But, perhaps he had been wrong to assume that he had experienced true fear, because he didn’t think anything could compare to watching the closest thing he had to a son suffocating slowly.

 

“I’m sorry you were used against me, like a pawn,” he said suddenly. Peter opened one eye, looking at Tony sadly.

 

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault,” Peter assured, his face open and genuine. “I don’t like it wh’n you blame yourself f’r stuff.” Tony stayed silent, still scratching his fingers over Peter’s scalp. After the silence stretched on for too long, Peter spoke up. “I remember the day you flew the nuke into the wormhole. I w’s at school, I almost cried when the portal started closing.”

 

Peter’s voice was so wrecked that Tony wasn’t sure if he was upset or indifferent, but he knew the kid too well. “You were my hero, ‘nd you still are.” Tony looked up, his fingers untangling from Peter’s hair as he stared to him curiously.

 

“Why is that?” He asked, unsure if he truly wanted the answer.

 

“Because I’ve always looked up to you… and you s’ved me too, at the Stark Expo in two thousand a ten.” Peter watched Tony raising an eyebrow as he thought back to the mess with Hammer’s drones.

 

“You were the kid with the mask and repulsors, the one who didn’t try to run.” Peter nodded, smiling as Tony huffed amusedly. “Of course you were, what else would I expect?”

 

“Back then you were just an idol, someone to look up to – and now you’re my mentor, you h’lp me every day and you gave me the suit. Uh… and if – if I have to suffocate every now and then just to hear someone call you m’ father-figure… is that really such a bad thing?” Tony barked out a laugh, shaking his head and hiding his grin.

 

“I guess not, according to you.” He looked up, taking Peter’s hand again. “You don’t have to asphyxiate to have me as a father-figure though, I’m always here for you, Underoos.” Peter smiled softly.

 

“I know you are, Mister Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3
> 
> I have a Tumblr! ~ It's agib_2002 ~
> 
> I post on there - it's all Marvel (especially irondad)
> 
> And an Instagram (I don't use it much but it's there for anyone who likes the occasional post or if anyone prefers Instagram over Tumblr!)  
> ~ It's also agib_2002 ~ Please give me a follow if you're interested <3
> 
> A few people have commented and mentioned that they've read more than just one of my fics and enjoyed them, so, if anybody wants to, I'd be really happy responding to asks and getting prompts to write if you leave them on Tumblr, or Instagram.
> 
> So... yeah, leave an ask/suggestion if you want me to read and respond to it (or even just ask any questions you're curious about me or my writing or anything really).
> 
> I'd honestly be happy talking about anything if anyone messaged me, so feel free to hit the asks/submissions/messages if you wanted to say anything at all.
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> I got Tumblr not so long ago ~ It's agib_2002 ~
> 
> I post on there - it's all Marvel (especially irondad)
> 
> A few people have commented and mentioned that they've read more than just one of my fics and enjoyed them, so, if anybody wants to, I'd be really happy writing asks and getting prompts or suggestions for new fic to write if you leave them on Tumblr.
> 
> So... yeah, leave an ask/suggestion if you want me to write it (or even just ask any questions you're curious about me or my writing or anything really).
> 
> I'd honestly be happy talking about anything if anyone messaged me, so feel free to hit the asks/submissions/messages if you wanted to say anything at all.
> 
> <3


End file.
